


Four Secrets revealed (and One Forced Confession)

by Crosses_and_Qoutes



Series: Dimensions of Frost [2]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crosses_and_Qoutes/pseuds/Crosses_and_Qoutes
Summary: A continuation of 'Four Times Jack took the Guardians into his home (and the one time he let them stay), it's the Guardians turn to reveal depths of themselves to their youngest member, and to pull back some more layers of Jack too. But there is more going on than appears. A master plan that has been centuries in the making is about to come crashing down and Jack might be caught in the crossfires. There are war drums in the wind, for those who know how to listen.OrThe Guardians reveal a few secrets about themselves and Mother Nature gets pissed.





	1. North: Home

**Author's Note:**

> Here, it is, the long awaited sequel! The others will be posted shortly, but until then, here is North!

North poses it as a game, though it is far from it.  
The Guardian of Wonder had been teaching Jack for some time now, two months shy of a year. His core, a winter so playful and floating and light, is a welcome change compared to the winters that he remembers over the years. There is not an echo of the harshness of Boreas or the sting of the Snow Queen as Jack dances along the edges of magic and air. Jack has never forced the earth to sleep so much as tucked it in and whispered a story as if it were a child. The ice on the edge of his heart is unfortunately expected but North tells himself that it is far better than the alternative. Afterall, if there was no resentment or anger about being alone for three hundred years, that would be far more worrying. But it is something that can be worked with. Something that they can chip away over the years and heal.  
But he cannot work with what he cannot understand. And there is something there.  
Just on the edges, flickering in the lightening that he summons with a sharp white crack or the flick of a magic imbedded snowflake. North knows it! In his belly, he remembers! But he cannot name it.  
He is no master when it comes to identifying magic, but there is somebody who can. But he knows if he simply took Jack, the wizard would not see him. But if the boy earned his way in, the same way that he had, well, that might persuade him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.  
Jack winked, throwing himself off the sleigh with a whoop and North fought to keep the nagging worry from his mind. He wasn’t concerned that Jack wouldn’t prove himself. Jack was a good kid.  
Mostly.  
He was talking about the record holder for the Naughty list for three hundred years. And counting.

\--

Jack loved games. ‘Treasure hunt’ was a beloved classic, universally understood, and timeless.  
But this didn’t feel like a game anymore.  
Silence. Thick and suffocating, the wind had suddenly died underneath him, sending him tumbling into a snowbank. He shook the bits of snowflakes from his hair, grabbing the staff in a tight grip. Powerful barrier then.  
The edge of the thick forest wasn’t exactly welcoming either. Dark and twisted oak trees rose to the heavens with thorns as long as spears. Jack can sense the flecks of gold like tendrils sleeping underneath in the roots, a steady pulse like Sandy’s magic but not quite as friendly. Growth urged by astral magic and maintained by another then. It reminded him very much of his own forest, a giant wild wooden fence to tell everyone to keep out.  
“Ok...you clearly don’t want anyone coming in, but the prize is on the other side, so…”  
He half expects dryads to come forth from the bark, but it is only because of his tiny size that he is able to squeeze through the small cubbyholes and doorways. He feels the air stutter as the holes close after him. Through the roots and thorns, the inside seems gentler, the trees more managed and not as twisted. Also, smaller, he notes. He can see the smoke of a village from here. Maybe twenty miles? Not bad.  
It’s nice here. The snow crunches underneath his steps, a soft whistle that the wind is still trying to get past. There is no way to reassure them that his fine yet, but hopefully once he made it there, he could convince the keeper of this place to create a small hole.  
He nearly doesn’t catch it, but he shoots into the trees, just barely remembering to climb the branches instead of jumping on. Bear. Of course it’s a bear. He climbs higher, trying to get as much of himself as he can in camouflage.  
It’s huge, a pure white beast with a small patch on its muzzle, armor gleaming from its neck and writs. So its cared for then as well.  
It doesn’t even hesitate, taking one sniff and looking straight at him. Shit. Not even fooled for a second.  
“I know this looks bad.” He walks to the edge of the branch. “My name is Jack Frost. If you let me come down, I can explain, ok?”  
It’s intrigued, at least, and Jack rolls to a landing, remaining in a crouch.  
Human eyes. The bear has the eyes of a human and that’s more than a bit creepy, but it’s ok.  
“Listen. I’m just trying to find my friend on the other side of this forest. Guardian of Wonder. Are you familiar with him?”  
Of course the name is familiar. The Guardian of the Forest remembers him very well, the last being stupid enough to try and come in at all. Why he had sent a child in when he knew the dangers was beyond him.  
The boy is interesting though. He lays his staff down, the conductor of his power it seems, and pulls up a string, the smell of multiple creatures mingling with his own cold sharp musk. The bear claw attached is yellowed with age and sharp from use.  
“Freely given. You can check for yourself.”  
He will never remove it, he promised, but he bows and holds the necklace out.  
The Bear rumbles forward, growling lowly, but he can feel the tendrils on it. The bear of this claw was of Siberia, had even visited him once. To not take all of his weapons into the afterlife with him was a show of great love.  
“Just because you have earned their respect, does not mean that you have mine.” He mutters, smirking as the boy flinches. So the boy was taught the language as well? “What other proof can you carry that you are pure of heart and ambition?”  
“Pure of-what?” He shoots up. “This is a test of my heart? North, you rip off!”  
The bear chuckles, laying down. “North. Nicholas St. North sent you?”  
“Said this was a game…”  
“Well, there is indeed a treasure at the end of this wood. But you must prove yourself in order to go through unharmed. However, I have no doubt that, should you actually come to harm, he would rush here in a second, the fool.”  
“Where’s here anyway?”  
He blinks.  
“You don’t know?”  
“I was just told that this was a treasure hunt and that if I could make it through, North had a prize at the end. But this feels less like treasure hunt and more like a test.”  
He roars with laughter. Of course the Cossack would call it a treasure hunt!  
“Of course he would! Treasure was how he found us in the first damn place! I have a treasure for you, boy. I will not fight you. You reek of the man’s magic, so I know you speak truth. However, you must pass the final obstacle alone. They are the true test of character after all.”  
“Fair.” Jack slowly rises, only taking up the staff when the bear has lumbered a bit aways.  
“If you see him before I do, can you tell North that he is on MY naughty list?”  
Jack takes the laughter as a yes.  
Pure of heart? Intention? What kind of test was this? Are they worried about his position as a Guardian? That he was a bad influence on kids or something?  
Jack tries to shake the thought off, but it persists on his heels. Is there doubt of his position as a Guardian? He knows that he's a bit of a joker, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t take his job seriously!  
But fun certainly didn't seem to matter as much as Wonder. Or Dreams. Or Hope. Especially Memories, he knew personally how much memories meant in that regards. Without any of those things, would Fun even exist? Or matter?  
Nope, nope, dark path, Jack, dark path. Get back to the preset. Like the singing. Should really be paying attention to that.  
He can smell the smoke now, even a bit of bread cooking, but he hears her first. A soft litting thing that rises and falls like a sonnet. Jack creeps through the trees as it get louder until he finally catches a glimpse of her.  
She is haunting. Ghostly pale with eyes that glow and glisten, greener than emeralds and a voice that sirens would envy. Vaguely, she reminds him of the ladies of the Unseelie court, but even they seem dull compared to her.  
“Hello.”  
Oh, oh, he had stood right out in the open, hadn’t he? He had to get to North and into the village, but he couldn’t leave her here. Jack walked forward, jumping onto the hook of his staff. At least they would be a bit more level now.  
“What brings you here, young traveler? The rumored treasure no doubt. Here, take it.” She opens her palm and gold spills out of her sleeve, thousands upon thousands of coins clinking to the ground.  
“What-I don’t care about that.” Jack shakes his head, trying to look just a bit deeper into the veil. “I’m more concerned about you. Did-did you die here? Are you stuck at this forest. Listen, I know what it feels like, you don’t have to stay here and be lonely. There is another forest, hidden away. You would never have to worry about spirits hurting you or humans-”  
The spirit shakes and it’s so quiet it might have been the wind, but he can hear laughter.  
“Oh, pure of heart doesn’t even cover it, does it? The gold was absolutely nothing compared to my supposed loneliness. Come, Jack Frost,” She rises from the fallen log, holding out her arm, “I will escort you myself. Ombric must hear about you.”

  
\--  
To say that North is anxious is an understatement. It had been hours. Jack should have made it by now. North paced outside of the large oak, beard nearly flat from his hands. He hadn’t explained at all, had he? He should have. He knew that Jack, so desperate to make them proud, sometimes buckled under that pressure, but he had wanted to make it less nerve wracking. But had he made it more dangerous in the process?  
The village of Santoff Claussen was a haven for many, but especially him. Being able to rest and invent every once and awhile was a blessing, especially in his off season. His home, if he could ever claim one. Part of him had been so excited to introduce Jack, but then there was this trial. North almost misses the increased mutters until he sees it for himself.  
The Spirit of the Forest, her veil moving with a slight breeze, gliding on the snow like a dancer. Jack is wrapped around her arm, smiling as if they had been friends for years.  
She inclines his head to him, giving a curtsy as she makes one last remark to Jack.  
Jack blushes violet, nearly stumbling in his bow.  
“Not like that!”  
She swirls into nothing, her laughter echoing.  
“How did you possibly charm Spirit of Forest?”  
“I did not charm-no, no, firstly, Treasure hunt my ass, North. Second, who is Ombric?”  
“Ah, language! There are children here.” He pulls the boy in close though, “This is Santoff Claussen, a haven for imagination, invention and dreams. This is where I learned magic, and call home.”  
It’s a village tinged with invention and insects. They stay out in the cold with no problem and Jack doesn’t miss the various nests and holes that have been crafted on the outside of the homes and trees to accommodate for them all. The sound of machinery and chanting and books upon books can be seen inside of the homes. North is well known here if the reactions of the villagers are anything to go by. Many of the children he saved centuries back are just now having their own. When time moves so much slower, what was the rush? The barrier was part of it, but Ombric had created it that way as well. There was no need to worry about time suddenly running out when learning or inventing when it was bent for you. Ombric, North’s mentor and unsaid father figure lived in the center in the large oak tree as big as a skyscraper, roots turning elegantly, juxtapositioning sharply to its counterparts on the edge.  
The door creaked open as they entered, the sharp smell of dust and smoke hitting first. The inside is carved shelves upon shelves of books, insects buzzing in and out without a care, a set of dirty tea cups left out on a coffee table. The fireplace is carefully carved into the wood and insulated with magicked rock, much like his own. It’s the furniture that catches his eye, each from different time periods. High backed chairs and 80’s style coffee tables blending with Victorian pillows. It was a strange combination, but none of it seemed to match the man in the middle.  
He looks like he is straight from a story book. A wizened old man with busy eyebrows and a white beard that rivaled North’s. His robes were long, trailing on the floor, but they didn’t seem to be any partiucalr color and then all of the colors at once. The staff was a curved crescent moon, a bit like his own.  
“Are you done fretting about now?” He muttered to North. “Have some faith in our old friend up there. Now, let’s see you.”  
With two long strides he crossed the room and straight into Jack’s face, far too close for comfort. North steadies him silently with a hand on his shoulder, but the man doesn’t move for several moments.  
“A pleasure to meet our newest member.” He pulls away with a smile. “I am Ombric, also known as Father Time. I am the Guardian of Knowledge.”  
Wait. What?  
Jack whipped around to North. “There are other Guardians?”  
“Of course!” North shrugs, setting in a chair and releasing the breath he was holding. “There is Ombric, Katherine, you know as Mother Goose-”  
“Mother Goose? I thought there was only four of you.”  
“Five. Five now, with you.” North is quick to correct. Jack may have taken the oath, but he still tended to separate himself from them. “We are simply more public. The others, they are even more busy that Tooth and Sandy combined. Ombric is just hermit who stays here, at center of his element.”  
“If you wanted to give the boy a history lesson, you could have done that at your workshop.” Ombric pulls out a few items, rolling them out onto the coffee table. “But you are here to gain knowledge. To expand understanding!”  
“We are?” Jack perches on the arm of the chair North is in.  
“I asked Ombric to do analysis of magic, to see where we can start working next. You are ready for more advanced spells, but more advanced means better idea of what specialities are or could be. Ombric better at this than myself.”  
“Come now, boy, down from there. This won’t take but a moment.”  
The paper glows blue and white as he signs his name and a quick snowflake for a sample of magic.  
“Alright, now the staff.”  
Hell no. Jack steps back, clutching it tighter, but North nods.  
“How about trade? You hold Ombric’s, he holds yours?”  
Ombric seems less thrilled, which works with Jack. It feels strange in his hand, smooth from where it’s been worn down over the years but there are flickers of Ombric’s magic, bright and blue but not winter. He almost misses the fact that his own glows sharply, nearly burning the man before returning it.  
“Hmmm...there is much to work with here. Ok, you leave. Let a couple of old men test out what you’ve got.”  
“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Jack mutters, fleeing out the door. The last time he had handed the staff to somebody else, it had been cracked in half. Not eager to repeat that experience again.  
“Hmmm, a very interesting boy you have, Nicholas St. North.”  
“He is all of ours.” North waves a hand in general. “Ombric, what am I missing?”  
“Always in a rush, charging off without thinking, you haven't changed a bit have you? Relax, give me a bit of time to process what was given. Accurate analysis is needed if you want the truth. Let me open up a entry for the North Wind as well. It’s been near ravaging my barrier for the past hour.”

Jack is certainly happier when he feels the North Wind rush down, spending several moments simply floating in their embrace as they look for imaginary injuries. They were worried when he suddenly dropped, worried sick when they could not enter, but Jack smooths down the bristled fur until they are calm. The children are nearly a century and a half back in terms of modern dress, but years ahead of the population in terms of knowledge and invention. Most of them seemed to have just finished with school for the day, taking a much needed break and playing outside, though more than a few are trying to do homework. Jack had watched through the window, catching the last of the lesson. Apparently, magic was only one part, but the language of nature and insects were core lessons as well, with creativity and invention being heavily encouraged. Far different than the school's he had observed. The games seemed to be reflective as well, inventing different solutions to trick questions, puzzles, riddles. Not as spontaneous as his usual work, but certainly not unwelcome. But it’s the child that sitting off alone, hand clutching his hat as he scribbles on his paper, that catches his attention.  
“Hey there.” Jack whispers, crouching on the edge of the table. “What’s your name?”  
The child glances directly at him. Ok, good, he can see him. Jack doesn’t think that it’s a fear that will ever go away.  
“I’m Billy. Who are you?”  
“Jack Frost. What’s wrong? You look like you're trying to solve world hunger.”  
“No, I’m just stressing out. The language of birds is hard!”  
“Psh, tell me about it. Never insult a swan, even on accident. You’ll get pecked out of the sky for several years.”  
It gets him a half smile, but not near good enough.  
“I just can’t get the accent right, and we have exams coming up.”  
“Ever tried being a bird?”  
“...being a bird?”  
Jack smirked, flipping off the table and asking the wind for a little lift. The boy clings to his hand as he pulls him up into the air, tendrils of fear sticking to his sweating fingers.  
“Hey, relax. I’m not going to drop you. You have to believe in me.”  
Something clicks, and Billy let's go. Jack lets him coast for now, no fancy swoops, waiting for the giggle before having some real fun. The other children have rushed forward, and he lifts them as well. It’s a circus of giggles and laughter as loop de loops and twirls on stumbling feet are pulled, eventually forming an inflight game of tag.  
North watches from the window, the former Cossack grinning from ear to ear.  
“There is our Gaurdian of Fun!”  
“Joy”  
Ombric has returned from his books, looking a big fond himself. “Guardian of Joy is a closer description, but he prefers ‘fun’ doesn’t he? Either way, come see.”  
North had watched as Ombric conducted his tests. The paper had burned white, and the snow melted down and steamed, the ashes left on the table. But it made no sense to him.  
“In truth, I only need a sample of his staff to know the secondary, but I was interested in this chosen one of Man in the Moon's.” He gestures to the paper. “He considers himself Jackson Overland Frost. He does not consider himself reborn or dead, but alive. That’s important. There is no separation of who he was or who he is. Much more balanced that I expected from the twinge of ice on the edges of his staff. But this is why I say Joy. I asked for a sample of magic and his first instinct is to create a snowflake embedded with happiness. His first instinct is to give me joy. It’s his wish. That’s what makes them so powerful, which leads us to the secondary. Light. Astral light, from the feel of it.”  
“Jack? Connected to Stars?”  
Ombric shakes his head. “There are tinges of moonbeams, as expected from a creation of Man in Moon’s, but beyond that something burns brighter. I don’t know if ‘of stars’ would be precise, but he possess astral light. It is in the only answer I can you right now though. It needs to be tamed as soon as possible though. As it is right now, it’s too bright, reactive like a trigger. It would go off like a bomb.”  
Or a shower of lightning against a horde of nightmares, triggered by Sandy’s death.  
“I understand. Thank you for your time old friend, might be back on a later date if not too much trouble.”  
“As long as it is not during school hours. I don’t think I would be able to get my students back.”  
North steps out of the door, tucking his hands into his pocket.  
“Jack! Is time!”  
There is a chorus of groans as they float back into the fluffy white snow.  
“Hey, I’m not gone forever! You still gotta tell me how to talk to butterflies, right?”  
The reindeer rise to their feet, slowly relaxing around Ombric as he walks them out.  
“Which reminds me, what is this about handsome young men taking the Spirit of the Forest home?”  
North barks with laughter, Jack groaning.  
“Look, how was I supposed to know she was a guardian of your forest? I thought she was stuck here due to her death. I was offering her a room at my place, just like everybody else. I think she laughed at me, but like, it’s a nice laugh.”  
North shook his head. He should have known that Jack wouldn’t have even glanced at the gold.  
Ombric raised his bushy eyebrows. Interesting.  
They cleared the route to the sky in a snap, North half listening as Jack told him about his journey inside. There was more to Jack than they originally thought. That had been true for as long as they had known the boy, always proving to be more than he appeared, but it made North wonder if his ‘Court of Sleep’ wasn’t so far off from the truth. Winter was the season of sleep for the world after all. But surely, if Jack was a star, it would mean he would be several centuries older. Far older than they had told them, or perhaps he knew. Then again, Sandy would have sensed it, wouldn’t he?  
He sighed, brushing the hair from Jack’s forehead as he continues staring up at the moon. That was the problem, being the Guardian of Wonder. It often left him anxious with all the possibilities that could be with no definite answers. The only thing he could do was expand into lessons into light based and work through it.  
Manny lit the way home with a bright light, chasing down the shadows that trailed just a big too closely to his Guardians.  
It was probably nothing. Probably. But then again, with the recent battles...it wouldn’t hurt to keep a closer eye. Just for a while. 


	2. Bunny: Light

Jack is a crafty little thing. If Bunny had to describe him, it would be a weasel. Light, nearly silent, tossing himself into danger and a dastardly little bugger with teeth when pushed.   
Usually, Jack was a loner as well. Habits formed in the past were difficult to break. However, he did seek them out. With North, he simply came in and started testing toys or went straight to the Office. With Tooth, broken conversation as she alternated between him and every little crisis in the world and he danced with Sandy. There was no other way to describe it. With Bunny though, he was far more discrete. He would stay on the edges, silent and patiently waiting for an invitation or to be addressed directly by him, usually when Bunny was finished doing whatever he was doing at the time.   
“Ho, Frostbite.” Bunny muttered, ruffling his hair. “Whatcha doing?”  
“Just got done with lessons for the day. Wanted some fresh air after being cooped up. Also, uh, a question.”   
Bunny nods, finishing the line he has on the egg.   
“So, North muttered something about you or Sandy being better for teaching Light magic, if you both weren’t so busy, and I get Sandy. Literal star and all that. But I thought you were Spring? Or Earth-based?”  
“Light?” He interrupts, actually putting his paintbrush down.  
“Yea, Astral light is my secondary, I guess.”  
Bunny’s ears twitched, settling back a bit. He had expected air. Air would be be natural one, with the way that Jack twisted and flipped in it’s wake, the easy way that he and Tooth flew in it. Even storms were some base of air magic most of the time, and Jack had strong connection to those, but light?  
“Anyway, is it a Hope thing?” Jack continued, “Like hope being a candle when all other lights go out or something?”  
“It's, kind of, you know what. Plant yourself for a second. Gotta figure out how to explain this.”  
Jack shrugs, pulling out a few paintbrushes that Bunny keeps around for him and a few of the braver eggs tottle closer. They are familiar with Jack now, but he paints differently from Bunny. Bunny usually doesn't mind if he paints a few and honestly, Jack thinks that he secretly appreciates a few new designs running around. After all, it can’t be all flowers and greenery all the time. Jack can’t paint in the saturated colors of spring, but the deep landscapes of winter and the highlights of blue on snow were something he was intimately familiar with. Bunny leans back until he is lying down, absently flipping one of his boomerangs. The easiest way was showing the boy. It wasn’t really something he could explain, not really. There simply wasn’t words in the Earthen tongue that could work, it was far too precious. But not even Sandy had seen it, and Sandy was his oldest friend. None of the others even knew it existed. They knew vaguely of his past, the war with Pitch, the Golden Age, his membership in the Brotherhood, but they had never seen what they protected.   
As Bunny debated with himself, one egg was turned into the underside of a bluejay’s throat, another into a swirling wind and he was just finishing the third, his iconic ice ferns, when Bunny seemed to decide.   
“Listen.”   
Jack’s head snapped at the command, nearly pulling away.   
“You have to promise not to touch anything. Not a single damn thing. You follow my every move and you leave your staff outside. Deal?”  
Well he sure as hell wasn’t saying never mind now.   
Bunny nods, stiffly standing after crouching all day, and he waves the boy forward. The warren is bumpy in some places, but especially here, where the hills rolled into older and deeper tunnels. They seemed to be going to the oldest part, the sentinels more numerous and Jack couldn’t help but notice that they did not change their face. They couldn’t. There was only the fierce faces of war here.   
The door, hidden in one of the numerous hills, is crafted from one of the first trees grown on Earth and has no handle.   
“Never thought I would be entering this place again so soon.” Bunny mutters, placing a paw on it.   
Jack places his staff straight up, freezing it to the ground. Can never be too careful, he thinks, and pointedly sticks his hands in his hoodie.   
Bunny pushes the door open to a tunnel, then the door at the end of it until it swings open as well.   
It’s a storage center, of sorts, smelling faintly of dust and the buzz of magic crawls underneath his skin, making him shudder. Tapestries hang down all along the perimeter of the wall, books intermediately spread out between them from time perious far beyond Earth itself. Small toys and dolls were displayed as well, stiff from misuse. Mostly, it showed other creatures like Bunny himself. Tall human like rabbits with furs that varied from brown to gray to white, all of the wearing similar wrist guards, but they showed clothes! Vibrant robes that opened at the front and shirts with detailed hemlines on the neck, hundred of them all woven in.   
“These are Pooka. Well, what once was. This was was all I managed to save about my people, but that is a story for another time. A much longer story and either of us are prepared to do right now.”  
He walks over to what looks like a consul in the wall, a hand, eye, and voice scanner blinking at ready. Bunny whispers in something that is most definitely not human and a door rolls open from the floor, nearly closing as soon as it opens. They rush down, nearly clipping Jack’s hoodie.   
The tunnel here seems to roll forever, growing colder as they seem to run from the warmth of the sun. When they finally do land, it’s to an empty room, another console and another chamber in it. Magic is thick in here, even more protections, and it is only by Bunny’s permission that Jack is still alive at all. It springs open, waiting.   
Jack walks forward. It’s a small thing, steadily ablaze with green light and burning. Jack chokes wordlessly, knuckles white inside his hoodie.   
“That is Hope.” Bunny whispers. “It is the Hope of the Pooka. The light that I used to carve this world into a sphere, it is all the hope in the world. It is all gathered here and I guard it. Spring rejuvenates it every year and every year it grows just a bit brighter.”   
Jack is shaking. He can feel it, hopes that he buried over the decades rushing back, hopes that he cannot remember making. The hope to be seen, to be heard, to be loved, to remember his family, to be a good big brother, for his brothers to survive the journey to America, to make his father proud, to be worth-to be worth-  
Bunny closes it, pulling Jack away and his crying. Honestly crying and he can’t stop. He pulls into Bunny’s fur, clutching the leather strap around his chest.   
“So that’s why you would be good at light. You literally handle light.”  
“Hope is the light that guides us through dark times. Through death and love and loss, it is the guiding force of human, spirit and animal like. One of the few things that we all have in common. Not everything dreams after all. Some have never known sleep or rest. How can one Wonder if they already know all? How can one Remember when created from nothing? But Hope is the starting point for everything, rather good or bad.”   
He doesn’t tell Jack what he has seen. What he had to give up to get it here safely, but Jack clings tighter and Bunny curls around him,nearly encompassing him. Jack can understand, a bit. It was those hopes, that hope to be seen, that was the only thing that kept him from going insane most decades. But, to carry this, for centuries and centuries on end. How did Bunny not hurt? What did Bunny hope for?  
Bunny snaps his fingers, and plants quickly carve through the walls and hoist them back up the tunnel and out of the room, vines spreading over the door behind them and into the Warren. Jack doesn’t let for several moments, and Bunny can feel several hopes being locked away, deep in the corners of his soul. It hurt, the slam echoing in his core, but the ones he could feel were innate to living, rather adult or child; To be accepted and loved and wanted. Jack’s had been so small, nearly snuffed out, but they had carefully tended to them over the year, and they glowed just a bit brighter now.   
“I can talk to North, see if myself or Sandy can’t teach ya a few things. It might be a bit difficult, with me being Spring and all, but it might work.”   
Jack pulled away, leaning against his staff, but not unfreezing it yet.   
“I don’t get the whole core thing. Like, why does it matter? Bunny I don’t want to learn light if that is what it feels like.”  
“Cores are tricky things, especially in magic. It’s why North mainly teaches you, being a Winter himself. And you look at me. The only one that will ever handle that Hope is me. You will never have to worry about that. Your light could be completely different. Did North say it was your secondary?”   
“No, he took me to some guy, Ombric, and he had me do a bunch of stupid tests that made no sense.”   
Ombric? Hadn’t seem him in centuries. North had finally taken him to Santoff Claussen though, that was a pleasant surprise. If Ombric had said it, it was probably true, but…  
“Stand up a tick?”  
Bunny opened his senses, resting his paws against Jack's hands first. Nearly all creations had a primary and secondary magic, more powerful mages holding tertiary magic if chosen. North had been Winter and Fire, a precarious combination of passion and rage that was carefully balanced in his old age. Tooth had been Sun and Air, hints of Earth from her human father spreading inside. Sandy was almost all Astral light, being a star, with fire on his edges. Bunny had once been an Astral Light, being from the stars himself. But when he had taken this form, when he had chosen this role, he had chosen Earth and Water, with Light resting until needed. He could revive it, yes, but what did the stars hold for him now anyway? It was all gone.   
Jack’s Winter is there, curled in and steady as a drum. Jack, if nothing else, had amazing control over his abilities now and it does not rush to Bunny despite the fact that his power is leaking through on its territory. He continues digging, replacing his hands on his chest and forehead. Hints of darkness, a bit of air with edges stroked with bright blue...there it is. A light so damn pure that it almost hurts, brilliant and white and most defiantly starlight. Jack was not from the heavens though. Bunny ignored the way it lit up, moving closer. Moonbeams, dancing on the edges but-but-  
They weren’t Manny’s.   
These were not moonbeams created by Manny. Who had given Jack the Light? Did that mean that Manny had not brought Jack to life as they all thought?  
The light burns now, rushing to him, warning. It’s not time! He can’t know yet. Please, Aster, not yet.   
He stumbles back, blinking as the brilliance blinds him. When he finally can see, Jack is standing over him.   
“Nope, can’t make heads or tails of ya. Something wobbly in your core, mate.”  
“Some help you are, Cottontail!” Jack chuckles, releasing a breath. “I don’t think learning from you would be too bad though. However, you have to get a pair of those fancy glasses. The super tiny ones that teachers use to peer over you in disapproval? They are required. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”  
Bunny snorts, shaking himself a bit. “Already have a pair of specs, ain't eager to put them back on anytime soon.”  
“Bunny are you serious?” Jack stares as he walks away. “I was totally kidding, do you? Where? Bunny, where are you hiding them?”   
He chuckles, ducking as Jack tackles him to the ground.   
Whatever is resting in Jack’s soul, it seems to have the best intentions. If it didn’t, well, it wouldn’t be the first light he had to snuff out for somebody’s own good. 


	3. Tooth: Sisters of Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that this chapter is much more angsty than usual, but it's necessary. Tooth is a favorite, but dang it, there is so much more than they show in the movie!

Tooth is naturally a flighty creature. Not prone to sit still for any measurable length of time, her flitting about usually didn’t even register on Jack’s radar. But she was never jumpy.   
He had barely noticed it, at first. After all, she was fine his home, but once they traveled into the forest or gardens she seemed to get nervous. When he had tried to lead her through the Sanctum, she had muttered about an emergency and avoided it at all costs thereafter. He could understand, a bit. It was basically a graveyard, but for most Winter Spirits, death was a close companion for their season. They could not change that, so they could only learn and celebrate what once had been. It wasn’t the humans fault that they simply were not built for extremes. But it was only those places. Everywhere else seemed to be fine.   
The inhabitants had all sworn that they would not harm her, and her fairies had never shown any problems with the place either. Baby Tooth even had her own nest, and came down often to visit Bora, though neither of them acknowledged the other outside of these spaces. Leaders, first and foremost it seemed.   
But Jack can’t fix what he cannot understand.   
“So, is it something in the forest that bothers you? I know the Sanctum can be kind of creepy to those not used to it, but I don’t know how to help if you don’t tell me.”  
“No, no, nothing like that-563 Summer st, left incisor via front door- it’s not that the forest bothers me. It's the face carvings. They just...remind me of something in my past.”  
Her smile is bittersweet as she spouts off a few other addresses, nearly done with North America for the night. Jack clearly doesn’t understand though. Face carvings? Which ones?   
She shakes her head, jerking it to the side and motioning him to follow as she spits out a few more instructions. The zip away from her, the others patiently waiting.   
“Yes, but it would be easier to show you, so you can understand. I...it’s a bit like your Sanctum, I suppose.”   
It’s a few towers over, nearly twenty minutes away in a place as vast as this one, and Jack wonders how he ever missed it in the first place. It’s less of a tower and more like a column, the gold and purple hides faded from age and far less inviting than the others. Tooth gestures him through a small hope at the tip.   
Jack immediately notices that there are none of the children’s tooth boxes here. There are slots in the wall, but they aren’t the same. Names, not faces, are covered and distinctly in Indian or Hindu on top, and another language on the bottom that he holds no hope in translating. He waves a pale hand over a slot, a box popping out at the command. It sparkles, pure ruby with emerald inlay and shining gold.   
“You know, the fairies were originally divisions of me. Little bits and pieces that seperated from my form, eight in total. Can you imagine, myself and eight fairies being enough to collect the teeth for the entire world?” She laughs a bit, “But humans breed quickly and soon it became too much. If it wasn’t for Bunny, I don’t know what I would have done!”  
“Bunny?”   
“Easter Bunny, symbol of hope, life and fertility. He created some sort of magic between myself and his eggs, nearly a baker's’ dozen at first. They all cracked open, about a month later, young but eager to get to work. But they were separate from me. I couldn’t communicate to them telepathically like I could the original eight. It’s why I have to tell them where to go, instead of them simply knowing. But they can grow!”   
She places her hand over it, asking it gently, and the box gently unfurls. A few tiny dark green feathers were placed inside, along with a long golden one.   
“They lose their baby feathers and eventually grow their longer tail feathers, with their head feathers doing the same. Hema ended up replacing her green with gold, as well as her signature feather. It’s why she choose her name. But these are the marks of their childhood, just as precious to me as the children’s.”  
She flits up to the very top of the column and Jack quickly puts the box back as she pulls out a red silk bag. She doesn’t elaborate on it, but Jack remembers keeping similar ones under his pillow.  
He has never thought of the Guardians as children. Logically they had a childhood, of course, but he can’t picture it. Tooth seems as infinite as Sandy or Bunny, but even they must have had baby teeth at some point. Were they stored somewhere in the Palace as well? Are North’s?  
She reaches inside the vacant space, twisting her arm sharply, and the ceiling cracks open loudly, a few pebbles falling. It’s been a long time since this passage has been open. It opens to the hollow point of the mountain, giving way to brown rope with blue, white, red, green and yellow flags fluttering slightly from the sudden breeze. Tooth reaches out her hand and they pass through the rope into the portal on the other side.   
It’s nearly too warm, Jack perhaps clinging to her hand a second to long before he feels their eyes. A circle of women rising up like a tornado, a large hollow column in the middle of what looks like a tree trunk, the rest swirling in what seems like smaller trees or aerial roots. Nearly thirty in total, all with large glossy feather wings created from the thick leaves. Only a few had wings like Tooth, the leaves so thin that they seemed iridescent. The clothing was thick with embroidery, elegant circles and sturdy diamond patterns and the only thing they all seemed to have in common were a twin pair of sabers strapped to their sides.   
“These are the Sisters of Flight.” Tooth’s voice sounds so small, echoing off of the rock. “An invincible race of warrior women, they were as fierce as they were beautiful. They all used to live here, riding on flying elephants and protecting the memories of children, if you can imagine.”   
“Flying elephants?”  
“It’s exactly what you are imagining.” She shrugs, flying closer to the trunk in the middle. “My Mom, Rashmi, was a Sister. Dad, Haroom, was but a servant to a lord on a hunt, but he showed more honor and courage than anybody that day. They fell in love after he sacrificed himself to save her.” Tooth is nearly still now, barely afloat.   
“So the carvings, they remind you of this place.” Her silent gaze flicks to him, gesturing inside.   
There is a painting of a women with a gentle smile, four long wings covering her form like a feathery cloak. In her left hand are twin sabers, and in her right is her love. Tooth looks so much like her, he knows that this is Rashmi. The man beside her is handsome, kind eyes like Tooth’s own and a large turban covering his head; A single golden feather is in the center of it. A strap for arrows and a bow are in his right, he’s left clinging to his wife's. Haroom. Their names are carved into the floor, but there were no bodies to lay to rest. Just this lone painting.   
“When one Sister dies, they all die. When my parents sacrificed themselves for me, the other sisters turned into wooden statues. I was left to protect this place and the memories of the children of earth.”   
Jack looks on for several moments, wordlessly, and Tooth doesn’t know what he is thinking. She can’t see his face from this far away.   
But he lays his staff down, crook inward, and bows on his hands and knees.   
“Jack, what-”  
“When I was a child, we were taught to give thanks to the creator for the things that we loved and to never let them go unappreciated. I don’t know if God exists anymore, but I know that without these two, you would never exist, and where would I be without you? How can I not say thank you for protecting you, even though they know that this might happen? If your Mom was anything like you, she knew the risks. You can’t tell me that the other Sisters out there didn’t know too. But they decided that the chance to love you and make you happy was more important than being safe. How can I not thank them?”  
Tooth stumbles to the floor, unable to hold herself up anymore. Jack is quietly muttering, if she concentrated she could translate, but his frost stretches until the painting is reflected on the floor, her face just on the edge. Her soft sniffles seem so much louder in this place, and she does not know for how long she remembers and mourns but when she is done, Jack is waiting.   
“I will not carve another.” He swears as Tooth wipes her cheeks. “I will take the others down and I will not carve another face statue. The only ones that will stay are the ones that will mark the Long Sleepers, and those will be marked for miles off. You will know them long before you see them.   
“Jack, this isn’t necessary,” She tries but he only shakes his head.   
“You would do far more for me, were the situation reversed. Besides, I can find other things, practice the techniques I’m not good at yet.”   
Tooth leans against him, only for a moment, before pulling away. It hurts too much, being here. Besides, she has a job to do. The gift and responsibility that they left her.   
Passing through the ropes again feels strange. Like getting in a warm bath after a long day, and finally feeling the wariness of the day hit you.   
“Hey, Tooth, before we go back, which one is Baby Tooth’s?”  
“Tenth column, seventh row.”  
Tooth knows that Baby tooth, affectionately called Babe by one Jack Frost, is more divided from her than perhaps any other of her fairies. Most of them had been content with simply calling themselves what they liked. They were hers, of course, but they choose their own names. If Tooth named them, she decided their fates, abilities, purpose, even personality. She wanted them to discover themselves on their own, in their own time.   
Baby Tooth hadn’t chosen one, yet, when Pitch had attacked. She was only a few decades old and still exploring the world and what jobs she could do, what she liked, what she enjoyed doing, and so on. Her sisters all had different names of course, for different reasons. Deepti had been named for the beautiful shine of her feathers, Rita for her lovely voice, and the triplets, Pari, Parija and Parini, for their fairy nature. She hadn’t decided on hers yet, though many had tried to help her.   
Jack had beat her to it though. Accidentally. He hadn’t known the importance of names at the time, and she wasn’t sure how she felt when she felt the surge of power course through her at the act. Baby Tooth wasn’t anything like her sisters! That, and none of them had been so bold as to name themselves after their mother queen! But that didn’t stop her nature from adapting to it.   
Tooth had suspected she was getting bigger than her sisters, but she didn’t expect the double set of feathers inside. Her first set had shedded itself normally, but her second set should have remained for several more centuries.   
“I’m guessing that’s not normal?”   
“Jack did you give her another name?” She had suspected that Baby Tooth would grow. Afterall, it’s what babies did in reality, grow into children and so on. But not to accelerate so quickly!   
“Well, Baby Tooth is just a nickname. We talked about it and she wanted one more like her sisters, with the Indian tradition and all that. Samira seemed to fit, with her being connected to you, but also meaning cool breeze and stuff.   
That’s when she finally hears it. The fairies had moved onto the next tower, Asia, much closer than any of the others.   
She flings herself upward.   
“-624 Winter Lane, left molar, careful of the winds out there. 342 Bar Circle, appt 78, lower incisor, little brother with a baseball bat-oh! That one turned out nice!-”  
She’s nearly four times as big as her sisters, almost the size of a human baby, her dark skin flawless and black hair flowing behind her in a short pixie cut. Her mismatched eyes catch Tooth’s, but she can only smile sheepishly.   
“I am so proud of you!” Tooth zips to her, hugging her closely and the chirp of laughter is one that Jack is familiar with. He stays away for now though, giving them have their moment. He has yet to find the grave of his own parents. Or Pippa’s. He tried, after remembering them, but he simply hasn’t been able to. Yet anyway. There was time; immortality had that effect after all.   
\--  
It hasn’t quite melted, the ice that Jack spread to reflect the painting, but it was quickly fading in the heat. What is not expected is the echoing drips as it drops into the waiting hands of a man, his white beard clinking with sharp ice and sparkling dark eyes.   
“So, you are the reason that they have begun to seek me out, hmm? You are barely old enough to call yourself an elemental, much less a king!”   
His fist slams into the table, cracking the ice underneath. A yelp from underneath is quickly silenced.   
“It doesn’t matter. Guardians or not, you are not going to put all my hard work into jeopardy just because you couldn't keep to yourself like any other sensible Winter spirit should.”   
The Mirror of Reason had taken decades to put back together, but it had been worth it. Jack Frost couldn’t hide anywhere, not even in his own realm. If he could find a child so heavily camouflaged as him, he could find Her. Thank the winds that the Snow Queen had been such a vain and paranoid witch.

 


	4. Sandy: Island of Sleepy Sands

Sandy is impressed and amazed and utterly dumbfounded as the boy weaves his magic so effortlessly in with his own. North had mentioned wanting to test the boy a bit in light magic, to see the basis of what he could do. Jack certainly had never had any training in any particular magic, just sort of let it flow through him. But as he added careful bits of information to each personal dream, he could see all the little intimate touches that he simply couldn’t conjure from his sand unless he was on the ground with the children. True, it is Burgess and the strongest point of Jack’s power due to the concentrated amount of believers in one spot, but it is still astounding.  
“Hey, Sandy?”   
He glances over, tilting his ear closer.  
“I...Bunny said something last time I visited and uh, ok this is going to sound strange, but do you sleep? Like, who puts the Sandman to sleep, I guess?”   
He blinks, nodding his head. Of course he sleeps? Jack’s literally seen him take a nap just about everywhere. Especially when the meetings turn into ramblings and the eggnog is gone.   
“No, no, like, do you dream? Like we do? Or, well, humans, I’m not exactly human anymore, but I still get dreams sometimes, or memories. Tooth says sometimes they're actually memories, we’re working on that-”  
Sandy shakes his head, drawing the strands up to himself. Ok, that made more sense! Jack should have just asked if he wanted to see.   
Oh, he's going to fast. Or not making it clear? Jack is usually pretty good about reading him, but it's clear he's not getting it. Island, small lagoon, volcano, zzzz’s?  
“Island? Like a Dream Island?”   
Jack didn’t know at all. Well, this made it all the more fun! Sandy shakes his head, a pair of old goggles flowing across the bridge of his nose and a twinkle in his eye as the sand slips underneath him. Planes, he knows, no matter the make, will forever remain his favorite form of transportation.   
Jack is scrambling in before Sandy can even suggest it.   
The golden strings are trailing back, the last of the dreams done here for the night and he follows the fading strand of one more, the soft hush of brushing sand barely heard as they go barreling down.   
It responds to him, sensing the space, and through the dream of a child, they enter.   
Jack’s blinking away the light explosion before he can finally see a bit more clearly.   
It seems like a dream itself. The air is crisp and clean here, the water rolling in slow and calm waves. A golden island is laid out in loops and curves, spirals stretching across turquoise blue water. Sandy silently laughs to himself as Jack is rendered speechless. Never thought he would see the day.   
It had been such a long time since he had brought anybody here. Granted, he wasn’t here very often himself, more of a nomad than anything else, but it was nice to have something to come back to if he wanted. He landed the plane flawlessly, the sand collapsing to the ground with a flump.   
Is Jack ok? Not to warm?  
“No, no, that’s-it’s just weird like, usually it takes a long time for warmth to seep in. Winter spirit and stuff, but it’s nice. Really nice.”  
He waits as Jack reaches into the sand, burying his hands in the golden rocks, the way that his eyes light up, and Sandy wonders how often the boy feels actual warmth. He knew the nervous system would be different, a Winter elemental, but he had never considered how different. Jack eventually does get up, taking another glance at the sand dunes before chasing after Sandy.   
“So, this is why so many of your dreams start as ocean based, huh?”   
His dreams aren’t so focused...are they? Sandy uses his magic to tailor made to each dream.   
“Yes, but Sandy, your automatic ones that you send out before the kids influence them are stingrays and dolphins- that big pirate boat from three nights ago!”  
Oh, well, that made more sense. He shrugs his shoulders. It worked for most kids, given that humans still hadn't explored the depths of the ocean yet.   
“Cause there is some scary shit in the ocean, Sandman!”   
His shoulders shake, but he doesn’t comment, finally finding what he was looking for. The cove was a small crescent shape, a tiny bit of shore before giving way to water and a particular good place to sunbathe. They tended to move around the Island, but some of them were always waiting here, especially if they saw him coast in.   
Jack is paused behind him.   
The echo of their song still lingered, but they had moved beneath the water with a splash. Were they nervous because of Jack?   
“Sandy, no!”  
The hook of the staff sinches around his waist, pulling him into Jack’s chest. He looks up only to see Jack glaring as if to freeze the water. What is he doing? Sandy pushes against him. Why-  
“Sandy, trust me, you do not want to get involved with those She-Devils anytime soon.”   
Sandy releases the half formed whip before his even fully aware his formed it. He is protective of his mermay and Jack is going to apologize. Immediately.   
“You speak of the Sisters in the Glaciers, don’t you?”  
Galene is hovering just on the top water, her dark hair waving softly behind her. They all carry a bit of Sandy’s magic now, the glimmer of his golden dust coating her eyes and making the dark depths all the more alluring. Her green scales reached her throat, leaving her arms bare as she raised her hands above the water.   
“Sandy, I believe he has good reason to be afraid. Please.”   
He pats the teen’s shoulder. He, at least, is moving. Jack clearly needs to talk to her one on one. Sandy steps to the side, but he already knows that Jack will not allow him closer to the water. The boy was a pulled trigger normally, but if Sandy is ever perceived to be in danger now a days, well, it went from fun to vicious. His death and resurrection perhaps had the most effect on him than any other Guardian.   
“Those who live in the Glaciers are cruel and immoral, dragging men under for pleasure,delight and hunger. It is the only place in which such hearts can remain frozen in such a state without guilt. No doubt, you know this already though.”   
Jack nods, still clutching the staff in a white knuckled grip.  
“I thought a human was drowning. The scream was heard for miles, so I went looking through the waves. Not sure what I was going to do, but something was better than nothing. Those-they launched out of the water like piranhas and tried to drag me under.” Ice is cracking, forming and melting as quickly as it is formed in the heat of the Island. “I don’t like deep water, to say the least, and and I sure as Hell don’t like being underneath it. It took them twenty five years to get that ice to thaw. They never forgave me for it and I never regretted it.”  
He stand proudly, lifting his shirt and exposing a deep and short claw mark over his stomach. Galene, ever calm, nods in sympathy. She has received a few herself over the years. Sandy’s brow furrows as he sees the others though, various scars and nicks on the boys skin. What had Jack been doing? How did he get those?   
“I am, unfortunately, all too familiar.” Others are rising out of the water now, keeping a distance. “If you like, I have proof that we are different.”   
Each of them float in a line, beaching themselves on the shore and it’s mostly the younger ones here today. It must have been a school session. Sandy himself had never bothered to really look, never been given a reason thus far, but Jack creeps closer as they show him their hands. Thicker than a humans, the claws are clean and trimmed down, some even holding webbing. The scales are solid, a slight ombré and the hair is unmarked behind them. More importantly, Jack taps Galene’s jaw and she opens her mouth. The tongue is clear. Those marked by death according to the treaty carry the mark on their tongue in order to show the significance of their gluttony. No mermay here carries it. Jack finally seems to breathe, not quite getting close to the water but at least pulling the staff up.   
Sandy sighs, running a hand through his spiky hair. Granted, he should have thought about Jack's fear of water. They knew the boy panicked if the water was above the knee. The only deep pools installed in Jack’s own home had been for the Vodyanoy and even those were fenced in with sharp spikes. Stabbing yourself was preferable to drowning, apparently. He had just been so excited to show Jack his home. That, and if Jack really wanted to practice light magic, here would be the place to do it. Another light castor would be a blessing! There was so much Sandy had the opportunity to teach, given a bit of time.   
“Sandy’s never brought guests before!” Thoe flicks her tail, wiggling to lean up closer on her elbows. “What brought you here anyway?”  
“I asked if Sandy was capable of dreaming. Like, as the Guardian of Dreams and stuff.”  
Galene chuckles at him, glancing at Sandy. “Yes, but only through our lullabies. Even the infamous Sandman needs a magical push in order to get some actual rest and not just his naps.”  
Sandy scoffs overdramatically. He could, if he wanted. But who didn’t like being sung to sleep?   
“Lullabies? Like the ones you sometimes implant into the dreams?”  
Yes! He didn't think anyone could hear those! Though he supposed with Jack’s method of putting the earth to sleep, it wasn’t so far a stretch, a bedtime story to a lullaby.   
Sandy gestures over to a small patch of sand precariously not withered away holding a clam.   
“We can show you.” Neso declared, “It’s been so long since we have had anybody new to try a lullaby on.”   
Sandy nods, patting the red satin cushion underneath. It’s secure. He wouldn’t let Jack fall in and neither will the mermay. He swears on it.   
Thoe almost reaches for him, but seems to think better of it, splashing underneath and urging him forward. Jack carefully walks the edge, ice forming from nerves, but they don’t seem to bothered by it. Sandy lifts a strand to help Jack in and arranges them both facing each other. Jack is ok. Just focus on him and the singing.   
Galene hums, a hand on the clam itself to steady herself as she tilts her head, listening for something. They are accessing their bit of the dream magic, Sandy quickly explains, to see which lullaby will put Jack to sleep. There are seven on the clam itself now, not rocking, but the slow hum is building into something low and soothing.   
It’s not what he expected, not with Jack’s roots, but it seems to reach across the centuries. A mother's wish for her children to have a blessed tomorrow and a future of adventure and fortune. The heavens themselves to guard them and love them. To never know pain or sorrow or grief alone. A hope to be loved and loved in turn for all of time. It’s a lullaby, but he also knows that it’s played for the final rest as well.   
Jack shakes in his arms, hands clenched around his staff. Thoe, still naive to the world, reaches a hand inside, stroking his hair, but not breaking the lullaby. She doesn’t understand? Lullabies are supposed to help. A sob breaks and she looks helplessly to Galene, who only shakes her head.   
Sandy pulls him closer, holding one hand and hugging his head as the teen positively breaks. He hadn’t wanted this, though he supposes he should have expected it. After all, when was the last time somebody had sung Jack Frost to sleep?   
Small figures, as always appear over his head. Usually it was a little girl dancing on ice and snow, her big brother swinging her around in laughter. Tonight, it was an older woman, her hair pulled back in a high bun, gently rocking a baby to sleep, teaching him to knit, a song silently echoing as she cooked and cleaned.   
Jack’s mother then.   
He tries to soothe, but it’s not that the dreams are even bad. It was just the little things one remembered that hurt the most.   
Sandy himself never fell asleep that night, watching over Jack and wiping the seemingly unending tears from his cheeks. Tooth probably wasn’t going to be too happy that he had accidentally rushed memories before Jack was ready, but even he could not have predicted that a lullaby would have such enormous effects. Then again, for all of Jack’s confidence and power, it didn't change that he was a child just now grieving for his family after three hundred years.   
Speaking of mothers….Mother Nature hadn’t known a thing about Jack or his court. Seraphina had known of him, but certainly not all that he had done. When Sandy had explained everything, she was understandably irate. Where was Old Man Winter? Caring for the other winter spirits, creating a safe haven, directing the North Wind and it’s flock, these were the things she had assigned him hundreds of years ago! Trying to contact him and only seemed to make rise her temper, seeing that not only had the line been ignored but destroyed. Transporting to the Winter Court had made whatever control she had on her temper fly out the window. In a whirlwind of leaves, all that was shown was desolation. The walls of the throne room were crumbling, the windows nearly black with dirt, the snow creeping into the halls and rooms and absolutely no sign of the old spirit anywhere. This place had been abandoned for decades, at least. Sandy was only confused though. Jack was too young for such responsibilities, and yet, it was clear. Jack was been doing far more than just heralding in the winter.   
They may not have been able to find Old Man Winter, but he would be forced to show himself at the Seasonal Summit. Usually, Jack wasn’t bothered to come, as most thought he was simply one of the Winter Court. With everything that Seraphina had seen however, he would be recognized and invited personally. At the very least, the spirit would be recognized as a proper Lord. Old Man Winter would be explaining himself in front of the entire Seasonal Summit, along with the abandonment of his duties. Depending on his answer, Jack might very well be named Avatar of Winter. Sandy wasn’t sure about that, but he was already doing the job anyway. They’re wasn’t much else they could do except keep an eye out until then though. Emily Jane-No, Seraphina- was even more engaged in her work than he was, keeping the balance between all of the seasons themselves. Sometimes, he wondered if she missed being a restless shooting star. But if Old Man Winter had the power and reasons to hide from Mother Nature, well, it didn’t bode well.   
Sandy sighed, shaking his head. They could worry when it became relevant. Jack, after several hours, was finally breathing evenly and seemed more relaxed than ever. Galene hummed softly, not quite putting him to sleep, but just wanting to keep Jack comforted. Silently thanking her, Sandy nodded. For now, it was ok. 


	5. Old Man Winter: Truth

Most of the time, they skipped out on the Seasonal Summit.   
North and Sandy weren’t really involved with any one season, but Bunny was the Avatar of Spring. He should have been here. But he always crafted some sort of excuse using his holiday or some other reason to get out of it. But he hadn’t been able to shake the comment that Jack had made. The spirit world truly didn’t know them anymore. After so many centuries basically absent from the world, they would need to reintroduce themselves. Slowly become part of the world they actually lived in, while still guarding the treasures of childhood in the living. At the very least, they couldn’t let others think that they thought they were superior to them just because they had one of the biggest belief basis.   
Belief was power, in the spirit world. It’s how they survive as legends and spirits is through the belief of humans, spirits and creatures around them. If even one person believed, they would live. It’s why it was so difficult for them to die. But knowing about a spirit and believing in them were two different things.   
The courts are smaller than he remembers, and Bunny wonders how many winter spirits are going to stay in the safety of Jack’s Forest. Jack himself had been personally invited by Mother Nature herself, a high honor that was quickly spreading.   
He had never attended before. Technically, he had never had to due to Old Man Winter and Mother Frost having the only official Winter vote when it came to policy matters. But even then, it wasn’t like they stayed and partied with the rest of them. They literally showed up for the official meeting horn was sounded and then when it was done, they were teleporting out. The winter spirits had remained on the outskirts or simply didn’t attend, making the Winter Court a Winter Coupling. It seemed that the other courts had assumed that they had simply up and abandoned proper etiquette. The idea that Old Man Frost wasn’t recognized as their king was unthinkable.   
Even the animal spirits, usually more comfortable with winter and spring, had shied away from the spirits themselves. Bunny’s ears flick back and forth as he keeps track of them all. North is chatting away with some of the fire elementals and Tooth is addressing the fae courts. He wonders if she actually kept up with them over the years or if they simply governed themselves at this point. Sandy was picking Jack up to lead him to the correct entrance, and therefore a bit late.   
He sighs, feeling the fur of another being against his paw. Now he remembers why he never came to this stupid things, as yet another spirit pointedly shies away from him. They only see an animal in a fancy jacket. An animal spirit that should stay with other animal spirits. They would welcome him too, in the quieter places on the edges of the walls or the secluded halls, unengaged and silent as they suffer the spirits and their silly human customs. The little Moon Rabbit, markings white as snow and heart pounding a bit to fast, has fallen asleep curled at his side. Probably their first time in such a meeting and far too stressing.  
A small horn goes off, announcing the next arrivals.   
“Sanderson Mansnoozie, Guardian of Dreams and Jack Frost, Guardian of Joy.”  
Thank goodness. Bunny whispered an apology, knocking back the drink and making sure the little one is comfy before making his way towards them. Jack has come with a entourage, one of each of the main types of spirits in order to represent themselves.  
The ceremonial outfit is more stunning than Bunny could have imagined. The cloak is blue with a shift white lining, the blue shirt frosted and threadbare with lace detailing on the cuffs and collar. It seems like the crown of antlers and holly berries is a last minute addition, hastily thrown on without Jack’s consent. The lit lamp at the end of his staff is new, a quiet brilliance that seems to be his own magic. A ball of light? Well ain't he a quick learner.  
The animal spirits, who have been resting all night, barely on the shadows, perk up. Jack? The younger ones show far less restraint, bounding to him without hesitation and quickly burying him. Nuzzling, chirping, and barking as Jack laughs, petting their heads and nodding to each of the others. Finally, somebody that they trust is here, and being recognized for this efforts, if the rumors are anything to go by. About time.   
He doesn’t quite make it before a hand is pulling him to the dance floor, a quick turn before he recognizes the woman.   
“Sandy tells me that there are at least a few hundred staying at this ‘Court of Sleep’.”  
Bunny shrugs, taking control of the next turn.  
“They didn’t not tell me, for fear of my tearing it down, or even tearing him down. Some have even threatened me. Sandy could not find the words to describe to me why this boy is so special. Can you, E. Aster Bunnymund?”  
“You're asking me to describe the way a child loves. Or how it feels to laugh after a bad day. It simply isn’t possible, and all according to perspective.”  
“I see.”   
Seraphina watches him beeline his way towards him, a hand pulling him out of the masses of animal spirits. No one can tell her why this boy is so extraordinary. Why her fa-why Pitch Black would extend an invitation to join him. She is a grown woman now, but she feels very much like a child when she thinks of him. She sighs, squaring her shoulders and motioning to the top of the stairs. Let’s get this done.   
The trumpet sounds and the seasonals go to take their official seats in the circle. A small section has been made behind them for chosen members of their court, and they quickly settle in for what will no doubt be a long discussion. Pitch effected everything with his touch, and the cleanup being done is extensive. The Guardians have not taken their chairs in nearly five hundred and fifty years, but they have been cleaned all the same and are situated in the proper places. It does not escape any of their attention that Jack does not have a thrown yet. Sandy stands, calling up a cloud.  
“It’s fine Sandman. You guys aren’t the ones that need me today anyway. If Mother Nature up there is serious, then I’m choosing to stand with my court.”  
There is no place set aside for him, but the animal spirits move on another on the edge, and a place is made for him. In the grass, Aglakti acts as a fuzzy armchair with his massive body, Anut settling on his paws to Jack’s left and Atwater on Jack's right, their golden eyes gleaming. The owl flutters and settles on his shoulder and Kunwaktok, the only Ijiraq brave enough to come, settles in Jack’s lap in the form of a polar bear. Jack doesn't mean it as a power move, not even as the other animal spirits settle around him, but it is, nonetheless.   
Old Man Winter and Mother Frost show as they always do. Unexpectedly , silently and quick to leave in the exact same manner. He is glacier blue, his face emotionless due to the mask of wizened eyes and a long white beard nearly to his knees, a blue robe of snowflakes and the tall white staff glimmering slightly. Mother Frost wears a mask as well, a middle aged woman with long white hair tied up smartly behind her, nearly buried under layers of furs. Seraphina’s hands clench, but she does not react, continuing on with the meeting. The Winter Court is to be addressed last, as it will be the one to cause the most trouble. Spring, being the present season, starts the meeting, though fumbling and distracted.   
“Ok, this is ridiculous.” Jarilo interrupts, rising from his seat despite Vesna’s hard look. “What is this? Clearly the boy is held in high esteem by the winter and animal spirits, but enough to where they don’t go where they belong when Winter properly enters? This is a joke, and I can’t believe any of you are standing for it. He’s only a storm spirit!”  
The crackle of thunder is audible, German rising from his chair. Kupala rushes from the Summer side, desperately trying to calm him.   
“I am a Winter Spirit. I protect the spirits who will allow me to help them and heal them from the burns of those with sunlight in their touch.” It is the coldest any of them have ever seen Jack, his breath frosting the air around him. “Afterall, it was your tribe of Vodyanoy that came to me after you sent a crowd of sprites to attack them.”  
Vesna glares down at him.   
“You what?”   
“He’s lying. This storm spirit has no proof.”  
It is only because Kupala holds her brother that he does not fly at him, but Bunny is the one to hop across and pull him over to their chairs, quietly whispering. Let Jack defend himself. They will never respect him if we do it for him.   
“Actually, we do.” Jack counters, pulling a brown leather bound book from his cloak. Mother Nature nods, allowing the owl to carry it to her. “It is the records over the past one hundred years of the actions of summer, spring and autumn spirits against the winter and halloween spirits that stay with me.”   
“Why would Autumn attack Halloween spirits?” She flips through the book, skimming the multiple entries.   
“Apparently they have ‘taken over the Fall season with their atrocious holiday.’”  
The bird flies back to Jack’s waiting hand as she motions over to Corus, waiting for an explanation. But the man fumbles. None of them are capable of lying to her, and there is no way for him to twist his words when that is exactly what he said. He just never expected them to be copied. Seraphina also notes that the Halloween spirits do not engage in his court. They inch towards Winter and Jack; three distinct shapes in a cloak actually hiding in the animal spirits behind him. There are birds perched on top, protecting them she realizes. There are several birds actually, and as she looks closer, she can finally see why.   
“I want each spirit responsible for the accusations along with their seasonal reporting to me before his meeting is over. Suitable punishment for breaking the seasonal treaty will be dealt with.” She looks directly at Jack for the first time that evening and his blue eyes do not flinch. “As for you, Jack Frost, I wish to question the young rider on that owl. Bring them forward.”  
Jack looks ready to take their place before it filches down, pecking his head and shooting for her. He sits up and nods.   
The spirit, barely the size of her hand before, drops to the floor a full grown woman. Her skin is as dark as storms, the red markings made to match her owl around her eyes and forehead. Her hair is slicked back and wild, dipped red at the ends and the dark clothing marking her as the oldest of Jack’s nods is barely off put by the evergreen accents on the sleeves and collar. The low collar reveals a row of wolves teeth, the scars unhealed after several centuries.   
“I am Bora. General of the Nods and the first child taken in by Jack Frost.”  
The courts buzzes. They were all to take in the spirits of those who died in their seasons and help them move on. Jack was keeping them! Hoarding them in his court. Old Man Winter and Mother Frost glance at each other, their faces unmoving.   
“The Nods are the ghosts of children who died in the winter season for one reason or another, and were left abandoned with no direction. Jack took us in, gave us a home, and was the first to protect us from fading or becoming demons. Until my last spark, if one moves against him, they move against several hundred more.”   
They knew she tells the truth. She smells of death, but not because she has died. She has slayed members from each court before, and each of them earned their sentence.   
“Easy, Bora. We did not come here to threaten anyone.”   
Bora flicks a long ear, but this had always been her intention.   
“Your necklace now, Jack Frost.”  
They won’t let the boy approach. The Qiqirn is the one that approaches with the necklace, his walk stiff as he hands it to her. Down to the strands that make the rope, each claw, fang, feather and whisker freely given and the gifts from each creature taught. Jack hasn’t had to ask for a single thing to gain his power.  
She hands it back, noting the way that the wolf like creatures jumps back from her grip and breaks back to his master.   
“Taking in spirits, protecting the lost, directing the storms, creating a sanctuary for those in need during the winter months, is this not the duty of the Winter Court?”  
It’s finally come. Old Man Winter is stock still, clutching the staff in a white knuckled grip. Even Jack is looking at them, trying to discern the reason. Perhaps it is because he is looking for an explanation and not a punishment that he is able to spot it so quickly.   
“You have neglected your duties and responsibilities, leaving them in the hands of a spirit that is no more than a child. The only reason that Winter has not completely collapsed into chaos is because Jack has taken the reigns where you left them. What do either of you have to say?”  
Old Man Winter and Mother Frost glance at each other, but they are clueless. Jack rises to the balls of his feet.   
“If Jack wants to be the Avatar of Winter, let him. I will hand over my court.”  
It is the wrong thing to say, outrage pouring out from the other seasons. Where is the pride? The honor? Had they no shame in everything that they had done?   
Her hands are shaking, Jack notes, and that staff is shining even brighter.   
“I don’t want to be king, and I already have a court of my own.” Jack announces, rising fully to his feet. “I just want them to be safe and happy.”   
They are grasping at straws, neither of them know what to say anymore. It’s like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.   
Bora realizes it just as he does, zipping forward and striking Old Man Winter’s face and it bursts with a sharp snap, the blocks of ice cracking.  
The ice that created Old Man Winter’s face is broken, the robe falling away empty. Swimming in it’s mass, shuttering in the massive chair is a child. A dark haired boy with hell eyes and blue skin, the dark marks around his face like a mask. Mother Frost jumps up and Jack swings the lamp forward, a burst of light and she screams in panic. Resting in a pool of water is a smaller girl, dark hair pulled back and bright blue eyes, skin as pale as snow drifts and frostbitten blue lips. An exact replica of the Snow Queen nearly a thousand years ago.   
They are nothing but children, no more than thirteen.   
There is no recovery from this and Anut and Aglakti dive in and protect them from the other spirits. Jarilo is pointedly sent flying across the room with a roar, his body cracking the wall. Anut glares down from the tops of their chairs, daring anybody to approach as his mouth seems to grow more teeth.   
Jack is gentle as he approaches the ledge, both of them scrambling into one chair.   
“First, who are you. Secondly, who’s bright idea was it to play dress up?”  
“We didn’t know! The Snow Queen didn’t say anything before she just dissapeared. She just evaporated and we inherited the Winter Magic, but we didn't know we were supposed to collect ghosts or anything like that, we swear! Nobody ever told us! Frosty said he would take care of everything!”  
The spring and summer spirits pull away, the Guardians pushing through the massses.   
“Snow Queen...wait. Gerda? Kai?”  
They nod with tears in their eyes.   
The staff, fallen on the floor, continues to grow brighter, nearly unsettling now, and it erupts. The magic twists into a rope, wrapping around his foot and it yanks him to the floor, the cook of his staff quickly hooked around the chair leg. North doesn’ t hesitate throwing his own fire, burning ever green through the swirl and mass of snow, but it is so desperate to get ahold of him. It flows up, making one last grab for Gerda and Kai and is choked by Spring Flowers. There is no where for the magic to go, it’s too powerful, and it tip of the staff shatters under the pressure. North jumps in front of Gerda and Kai, the coat shielding them, but Jack is too far from it. The shards go through his hands and pierce his eyes.   
“Shit!” Bunny pounces, “It’s alright Frostbite, we can get it out-”  
“No! No, Bunny, wait.” Jack pulls back. “I think I know what that was. Anut do you have a cloth?”  
He tears a strip of his sleeve, binding Jack’s eyes.   
“Mate, I can’t help you with that thing on.”  
“Snow Queen. That staff was probably fashioned from her Mirror of Reason. You know, the thing that forces you to see the worst of everyone and everything? I open my eyes, I guarantee that there isn’t going to be any joy for a while.”   
Tooth picks up a piece, trying to feel the echoes of the magic, but North has burned most of the traces and the shattering leaves the spell fragmented. There is no way of getting a reliable trace on the casters location.   
“The Seasonal Summit will be resumed until the matters of the WInter Courts have been settled.”   
Vesna grasps Jarilo from the floor, making a motion towards German as well. She knows that he wants to stay, she knows what he means to him, but if German does not return, the Slavic people will not receive the rain that they need. They can’t eat if German does not do his duty. Kupala clutches her brother’s hand as he walks away, but she can already see the wheels turning in his head. There has to be something they can do.   
\--  
On the other side of the shattered mirror, Frosty the Snowman fumes, punching through the wall. How dare they? After all of his hard work, all the time that went into pulling off the children’s disguises, they strip them off. They are frightened. Terrified. God, they aren’t going to let them return, they were going to take Gerda and Kai.   
It doesn’t matter! His glittering coal eyes narrow, the snow of his hands reforming. He is getting his children back. Along with that light. Jack’s light was the brightest he had seen, the power of the heavens! If he could get a hold of that, he would find the turquoise fairy. No matter where, she couldn’t hide from that. If nothing else, it would make a suitable bargaining trade. The Guardians had enough pull to make her appear, if nothing else. Yes, Jack for the turquoise fairy.  
The snow on his hands smears the wood of the table as he gathers what is left of the mirror. With some stuck in Jack’s eye, he could track him. Find him, bring him here. He would have to empty a cage, but then again, most of his guests weren't going to be needed after this.   
It would work, it had to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one is actually pretty dark, but I swear, there is a bright ending guys. I am planning the third segment now, so keep a look out and I'll see you soon.


End file.
